


Books and Their Covers

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, Peeping, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26084596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Prompto knows nothing about Gladio, except that he's big, he's buff, and he's pretty damn scary when he wants to be. But what makes a guy like that tick? Where does he hang out when he isn't lifting weights or crushing watermelons between his thighs?Prom's determined to find out, even if it requires a little sleuth work after hours….
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	Books and Their Covers

**Author's Note:**

> 'Misconceptions,' for Day 1 of Promptio Week 2020 which is MY FAVORITE WEEK OF THE YEAR! 8D
> 
> Uhh. Please accept this humble offering on this, the Day of our OTP, that we might partake of its fluff and be healed. Amen.

The very first time he met Gladio Amicitia, he'd been stricken speechless. Or maybe _dumb_ was a better word for it. Standing outside the arcade, unable to keep his jaw off the floor, he couldn't actually remember a damn word Noctis had said to him that day. Something about a friend, his dad, and then Prompto's brain was nothing but a short-circuiting mass of wires fixating on a single point.

Namely, Gladio's chest, and the rock solid pecs on display even through his sweatshirt. 

_Muscles. Muscles everywhere_. 

Naturally, the memory left an impression on Prompto that was hard to shake. He'd spent days wondering just what kind of guy Gladio really was. An athlete? A gym fanatic? _Mafia?_ That might at least explain how he came to be friends with Noctis, who spent more time eating pizza pockets and playing video games than even _thinking_ about working out.

The mystery continued to hound him even after he learned about the Crownsguard. Okay, fair enough, that made more sense than organized crime. But no one else he'd seen training at the Citadel dojo had a brick-house body and washboard abs like Gladio did. No one stretched out a pair of running shorts like him doing squat reps. And no one, not even the Marshal himself, looked so _freaking god-like_ when he took off his shirt. 

Oh, yes. Prompto was glad he'd stuck around long enough after practice to see _that_ spectacle. From the locker rooms, he probably looked exactly like one of those creepy stalkers they warned about on TV. Peeking around the corner, eyes wide as they drank in the sight of ripped shoulders, biceps that could crush his skull in a headlock, and lines and lines of dark, mesmerizing ink. 

Okay, so that was also the day Prompto discovered he had a thing for tattoos. A _huge_ thing. Who knew?

Yet as much as he'd learned about Gladio (and himself) in the months since that fateful first meeting, there were still too many questions he _didn't_ have answers to. Like, what did Gladio do when he wasn't working out? Did he like music, or video games? Where were his favorite places to go running, or, if he didn't run, what other sports was he into? 

Noctis was absolutely, completely no help at all. Whenever Prompto tried to bring it up ("So, I was thinking, you know that Gladio guy…?"), the prince always had some kind of sarcastic response. _"Why do you always ask about him, Prom?" "Are you into guys like him, Prom?" "I'm pretty sure he's single, PROM."_

Useless.

So he continued the reconnaissance work alone. He waited for Gladio after training a few times, and followed him, far enough back in the shadows that he was certain he wouldn't be seen, to find out where he went. The grocery store, _check_ . A fitness shop, _predictable_. Then, out of the blue one day, a book store. 

_That_ one admittedly caught Prompto by surprise. Were beefy muscle heads usually into things like _reading_? Maybe it was an unfair assessment, but curiosity got the better of him, and he slunk into the shop to see just what Gladio was up to.

Interestingly enough, he skipped the magazine rack entirely, with all of its exercise mags covered in insanely hot people. He even passed the shelf with books on dieting, protein recipes, and titles like " _Get Fit in Ten Days Or Die Trying."_ (Prompto had bought that one, actually; it was false advertising on both counts.)

Yeah, okay. So he supposed Gladio didn't really need stuff like that. But then, what _was_ he after? 

Nothing could have surprised him more than the truth. He watched Gladio turn right past the comics to an aisle he himself knew well. _The fantasy section_. All the dragon-riding, magic-casting, orc-battling literature he'd been into since high school. He'd read so many different authors, explored so many different worlds right from the comfort of under his blankets. But he'd never had anyone to share those adventures with. Noct, well, he hated books that weren't full of pictures, and Iggy only read boring things like non-fiction and self-help guides. Could Gladio be the one he was meant to bond with over a mutual love of ents and elves?

He peaked over the neighboring bookshelf again, where he was pretending to look at a book on - he checked the cover - "Breeding and Domesticating the Endangered Naga" _(r-really?!)_ to find, to his horror, that Gladio was gone. The fantasy aisle was empty, as was a novel-sized spot on the shelf where Gladio had been standing. Had he gone to the registers, then? Prompto shoved the stupid snake book back in place and wheeled around to find his mark again before it was too late. 

Two aisles down, right next to the cosmogeny books, a hand snapped out for him. Caught him by the hood of his sweatshirt to drag him - quite literally - behind a set of tall shelves. One shook disconcertingly as he was shoved up against it back-first. 

"W-woah, woah! Hey! Easy!" 

"You've been following me," Gladio demanded. It wasn't a question. "What do you want?" 

"U-uh, look. I didn't mean to, I just, y'know, came to buy some good reads, too. Same as you. Right?" 

"You're Prompto Argentum, right? You're that kid Noct always hangs around. I've noticed you a lot at training lately." 

Prompto swallowed. "You...have?" 

"Yeah. I saw you running out of the locker room with a bloody nose last week." _Oh, cool, great._ Because _that's_ how he wanted his crush to remember him. "So why are you really stalking me all the time? I hope you didn't think you were being subtle with that hair of yours."

"O-of course not…eh heh." Tentatively, he reached up to smooth down a rogue tuft of blond. "Look, I guess I just...wanted to get to know more about you. Like, you're my best friend's bodyguard, it's kinda weird we've never, like. Talked? I guess." 

"Right," Gladio replied, totally incredulous. "And if you wanted to talk to me so bad, why didn't you just ask?" 

"You're...kinda intimidating, dude." 

Amber eyes scanned the situation - Prompto shrinking against the book shelf, practically shaking in the massive shadow Gladio's shoulders cast over him - and he hastily pulled away. "Ah, _er._ " He cleared his throat, ran his fingers back through his mane of dark hair. "Sorry. It's habit. I sometimes have trouble switching it off." 

"S'okay. You _are_ a bodyguard, after all." Prompto laughed, finding it much easier to relax now that he didn't have two hundred pounds of muscle bearing down on him. He brushed more hair out of his face, and smiled. "It's cool you're so strong, too. Like, you could probably pick a guy like me up no problem, huh?" 

Was that a smirk as Gladio looked him over? It kinda felt like one. "Yeah, maybe. Keep following me and we might find out." 

_Oh,_ boy. If that was meant to be a threat, it was having the exact opposite effect. Prompto forced out an awkward laugh, if only for the sake of hiding the way his voice suddenly got so light. " _Hah!_ Right, you got me. My life of crime ends here and now." 

"Good. So, what are you doing after this?" 

"H-hm?" 

"I mean, are you free? Or do you have someone else to go stalk tonight?" 

He couldn't tell if Gladio was joking. Did Gladio even know how to joke? Was there possibly room in all those glorious, glorious muscles for a sense of humor? He had to find out. "N-nope. My eight o'clock cancelled, so I've got nowhere else to be. I can pencil you in for a shadowy-alley or binoculars-in-a-tree treatment now if you like." 

That was it. Gladio was laughing - _roaring_ , even - and the sound was like music to Prompto's ears. His laughter was deep, like his voice, and vibrantly rich. Contagious, too, if the nervous chucking spilling from Prompto's own lips was any indication. Who would've guessed that a guy that looked like he ate raw eggs and nails for breakfast had so much, well, _depth?_

Prompto was pretty sure he was in waaay over his head on this one. But for Gladio, he thought he could be willing to take a plunge. 

"Okay, okay." Gladio wiped at the corners of his eyes, still grinning. "That sounds fun, but how about coffee instead? My treat. We can finally do some of that 'talking' stuff. Besides, there's a place around the corner that does a mean roast." 

"You had me at coffee, dude." 

"Cool." _Yeah,_ Prompto thought, practically swooning. _Very cool_. "Let me just pay for this and we can go." He held up the novel he'd been carrying earlier, the one with a picture of a glowing sword superimposed on a ring of crystals. 

"Ah! Nice choice. The _Warrior of Light_ series is one of my all-time faves." 

As they started together back toward the front of the shop, Gladio looked at him with newfound interest. "You read Nomura? I've never met anyone else who even knows who he is." 

"Aww, yeah, he's the best! I really like the pirate, Faris. She's kinda been like my idol since high school, y'know?" 

"Yeah, for sure. I've always been a fan of Galuf, myself." 

"Whaaat? Oh em gee, dude, that's awesome!" 

"Totally, _dude."_

"Sweet." 

Prompto was smiling so hard his cheeks burned. Or maybe that was the blush, lighting up his whole face like a Solstice tree. After weeks and months of misconceptions, of thinking he could figure Gladio out by the size of his muscles alone, he couldn't be more thrilled with how wrong he'd turned out to be. Gladio was a _dork._ A complete and utter weirdo, just like him, who liked nerdy books and stupid jokes. He was into coffee and, as Prompto would come to learn in the series of dates that followed, softer things, too. Things like cuddling and kisses to the tip of his nose, and holding hands while they watched the latest episodes of _Games of Mogs_ together. 

It just proved the adage that you can't judge a book by its cover. Unless, of course, there's a dragon on it. Or orcs. Or a glowing ring of some kind. Because _those_ kinds of books, just like Gladio's lips and the sound of his booming laughter, were some of Prompto's favorite things in the whole wide world. 

**Author's Note:**

> :'3


End file.
